I’m late getting yesterday’s post up. I’m late because my daughter showed up at our doorstep last night with her two boys. Our doorstep right now is attached to our fifth wheel. Let me just say that if you add two grandsons and their mama to a camper already holding myself, my husband and our two dogs you get glorious chaos! The daughter just needed a little break. Some time to herself. Even if it was just a few minutes. We fixed her up with a turkey sandwhich on a snowman paper plate and put the tv on a Christmas movie. Most of the time her tv at home is tuned to sports and she’s been unable to scratch that itch for small town love and Santa shenanigans this year. We took the boys up into our small bedroom and just basically set them loose. There were squeals and hiding under the blankets and the younger one pulling the older one’s hair. There were baby grins into the mirror and grandpa in the middle of it all wearing a Christmas shirt and loving every minute! It was wonderful. And it was totally due to the season. We are here because there are Christmas concerts, and early releases and days off from school that two busy working parents can’t navigate without a little extra help. So Grandpa and I are glad to hook up to our traveling home and come stay for a little while. We are really happy when we get nights like last night. Unplanned and wonderful. It’s one of the best gifts of the season. Extra minutes. Opportunities to make someone a sandwich. Unexpected knocks at the door. A gift from Christmas to us.
I heard a guy on tv say Americans are running out of shared experiences. We watch different news channels. We are shopping from our homes instead of in stores. Someone is trying to make concerts virtual with avatar artists. Every kid isn’t showing up for the first day of kindergarten down at your local school. The line of little kids with backpacks bigger than they are is a bit shorter these days. If you focus on all of that and the fact that Americans are even choosing sides over where we eat our chicken and drink our coffee it doesn’t take long to get depressed. Travel further down that road to some of the other things we don’t agree on and things can turn really, really dark. Into that darkness, Christmas comes to save the day. In so many, many ways. If you are a believer, Christmas is the promise that our Savior has already saved the day. We’re just waiting for the final score to hit the board. For it to be official that good wins. Hold tight to that. It’s gonna happen. Until then, hold onto Christmas. Christmas is our sign post to a future we all wish for. And it’s not going anywhere. I say this because, as someone who travels extensively, I am here to tell you Christmas is everywhere. I mean everywhere. I pass hay bales painted to look like Santa. Small towns drum up volunteers to go down and put lights on the courthouse and to find folks to decorate their trucks for the parade. Small businesses that have been struggling lately still pay someone to come and paint snowflakes and holly and snowmen on their shop windows. Teachers at the local school pull money out of their own budgets to make sure their students have a little gift to take home and open. A bottle of bubbles or a pair of fuzzy socks. A picture of them wearing a Santa hat and framed out in puzzle pieces to hang on the fridge at home. Someone from the city will go and dress whatever the big statue is in your town in a Santa costume just to make you smile. I’ve seen a giant man, a road runner and a panther all dressed as Saint Nick. Every one of them elicited a grin from me. And I was happy to give it. Grab a hot chocolate and drive around your neighborhood. A lot of people are stringing up lights to participate in the merriness this time of year. Red lights, blue lights, icicle lights. Giant pink pigs and nutcrackers and even an alien with a wreath around its’ neck. I’ve seen them all. There’s absolutely nothing more beautiful than driving through a dark night and suddenly seeing a brightly lit house in the middle of nowhere. You take your foot off the gas and slow down to look. If you’re me, you put your hand against the cold glass in a little salute to the time and energy it took to create that scene. You feel connected to the family who did it. Like maybe if you knocked on their door they might invite you in to watch A Christmas Story. Give you a fuzzy blanket to cover up with and start a fire. Imagine how many homes will do just that this holiday season and all of a sudden America will start to feel like a really big family again. Yes, we have those few relatives that have to start some drama every Christmas, but we don’t let them spoil the whole day. After all, a lot of us have showed up just to enjoy each other. To eat Christmas cookies and do kind things and hand out shiny packages to people we love. There’s more of us than there are of them. Look around and you’ll see I’m right. There are Christmas kindnesses everywhere and we can all participate as much as we want to. It’s a shared experience that we are all invited to. I hope the guy from the tv gets out and realizes that too. I’d like to hear more about the folks shoveling a neighbor’s driveway and volunteering to serve Christmas dinner at the local shelter and less about those seeking to divide us. Every wreath and blow up in a front yard is someone saying I’d like to be a part of this good thing that is happening. This time of year when people soften and life is warmer. This belief that, in the end, good will win. Yes please. You can count on me America. Put me down for a dozen cookies and a giant blow up Santa flying an airplane. Some kid will love that. And thank you to everyone helping decorate our country for our big family celebration. I see you.
Stop and think for a minute about the noise of Christmas morning. Packages being ripped open. Squeals of excitement over what’s inside. Dad’s pleas to put all the paper and ribbons right into the trash. Mom’s pleas for another cup of coffee. The oven timer announcing fresh cinnamon rolls. Various noises from new toys. Dings, and clangs and clatter. It would be hard to describe a scene more representative of Christmas and what it means to everyone. I’m looking forward to just such a moment this year. Two grandsons. Hopefully a sister. My sweet husband. God willing it will happen. But, I’ve been on this earth long enough to have learned it’s the quiet moments that come before that noisy, joy filled one that really give Christmas its’ weight and depth. Its’ true sweetness. Ever been to a Christmas Eve service at church when the whole congregation falls silent while the candles are lit? One person sharing the dancing flame to the next and the only sounds are jacket sleeves brushing together and an escaped cough in the back. Ever gotten up early and walked outside in the snow? Your breath goes ahead of you and your shoes make that delicious slushy, crunching sound that means you beat the crowd. Your footprints are first. Ever been the first one to your dad’s table to have coffee with him? It’s the first day of vacation and you have no where to be. You and your dad drink coffee and talk just enough to not be awkward. He gets up and brings a paper towel folded into a square for your cup. You place it there and steady it with your hands so it doesn’t lurch. You want him to think his folded square is perfect. Ever been asked to watch your baby grandson on a quiet December morning? You drag his bassinet into the family room and rock him to sleep in front of the Christmas tree. It is so quiet and all you hear is his steady little breathing. Later, when he wakes up, you can see the tree lights reflecting in his eyes and when he smiles at you it’s Christmas. Weeks until the official day. The cinnamon rolls, package opening day but still Christmas. I wonder what quiet moment happened in all of your lives today that gave you that Christmas feeling? I wish I knew them all and I hope none of us miss them when they come. It’s a noisy world. Dings and clangs and clatter everywhere.
I wish you could have been there. Maybe you were. The store was pretty crowded. I might have missed you in the sea of flannel and Uggs. Snowman shirts and red ball caps. Heavy purses and high ponytails. I stood at the back of that crowd and wondered how long it would take me to make it to the front. I wondered but without any desire to leave. No way was I leaving without my ten dollar, three wick candles.
Honestly, I hadn’t even known I needed candles, but the nice elf lady in front of the store had handed me a bag and ushered me through the double doors. She had just assumed her store was my destination. Where else would I be going on ten dollar candle day? I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was to buy stadium chairs at a store further down from hers. That I had gotten up that morning, drank coffee, picked out socks and fueled up my car without even knowing it was the one day a year when three wick candles were only ten bucks.
Apparently the other three hundred women and two men in the store did know that. They had come with lists and ideas and deep pockets. Some people even went back to the elf lady for more bags. I was clearly out of my league. I almost ditched my bag on the end cap and left. But then I started to listen to the conversations around me. I always do this. Don’t say things in public you don’t want a writer to use. I’m just saying. What I heard was Christmas. People thinking about other people. Getting excited about making them happy.
“Dude, I’m going to buy this for Britt. She loves this kind of candy.”
“I’m getting this one for my mom. Her bedroom always smells like this.”
“This one just smells like Amanda to me.”
So, I joined in. I was by myself, but I had a very pleasing conversation in my head as I thought about the people I was buying candles for.
“Oh, I’m going to get this one for Renae. It smells so fresh and the colors will look great in her new kitchen. And I’m going to get this one for Summer so when she comes in after school she can make her kitchen smell like Christmas while she picks up. This one would be perfect for my sister, but I don’t know how I would ship it. Besides she might like to pick her own. Oh, mom would have loved this one.”
Y’all, before I knew it, I was grinning form ear to ear and happily humming a Christmas song. I made my way through the line, had a pleasant conversation with the girl running the cash register and exclaimed appropriately when she informed me how much money I had saved on candles I had had no intention of buying. I left with a shiny bag and a row of candles nestled in red tissue paper and chosen carefully for all my favorite people.
On the way out, I high-fived the elf lady and it caught the attention of an older woman trying to make a wide circle around the entrance to the store. She looked a little startled and did some kind of evasive move to try and avoid us but my pointy-eared friend was too fast. She shoved a bag in her hands and proclaimed it was ten dollar, three wick candle day. The older lady looked at me for an explanation, but I just winked at her and told her to go inside and listen for Christmas. The last I saw her the double doors were closing behind her and a worker was handing her a candle to smell.
Resistance is futile lady. Take your place in line.
Next door, they’re selling Rudolph sweatshirts two for thirty bucks. I know a couple of people who would rock those. I bet you do too. What the heck. It’s all for the people we love.
I’ve written before that I think songs can be little bridges to the past. To a time you would give anything to go back to. It’s why I have spent this afternoon scouring the internet for a particular song. It had something to do with a horse that was going faster and faster. I want to listen to it.
I want to listen to it and I want to close my eyes and I want to be a little girl again with my kid sister.
Especially on one particular day.
It was winter time and when I looked out the back door that morning it was nothing but white and dripping water. Muddy puddles and cold. I did not want to go to school. I did not want to stay home with nobody to play with. So, I went back and crawled into the bed I shared with my little sister.
“Let’s talk mom into letting us stay home today.”
Thirty minutes later, we were both in the living room still wearing our nightgowns, with our noses pressed against the cold picture window, watching our older siblings get on a bus for school. It hadn’t even been hard. My older sister was glad not to have to get us dressed, my dad was already gone to work and my mother was still in bed that morning. It was not a good day for her.
Suddenly, there we were, two little girls with a whole day stretching in front of us. No school. Nobody bigger than us.We watched cartoons. We played with Raggedy Ann. I read her some books. We laughed just because it was funny that we had accomplished this big thing. Things were great until we got hungry.
Our refrigerator was completely empty. Nothing. No crackers. No leftovers. Nothing. Barely any milk. Not enough for both of us to have cereal. In that moment, I did what probably any kid would have done. I climbed on top of the counter and started looking in the higher cabinets for food the grownups might have put out of our reach. I found some things that could have been cooked, but I was not allowed to use the stove. Ever. No macaroni and cheese for us. I put the blue box back and and kept looking.
Finally, when no other cabinets gave up any treasures, I stood with one foot balanced on the cool metal of the drawer handle and one foot wedged against the wall and reached the little cabinet above the ice box. A box of dream whip. And, as a bonus, it was chocolate. Chocolate dream whip and nobody to tell us we couldn’t have it. I jumped down and showed it my little sister and we danced around our kitchen with it held over our heads like a prize.
Next I climbed back up on the counter and got down my mother’s big yellow mixing bowl. The one we weren’t supposed to touch. I ripped open the white package and dumped the powder into the big bowl. Bits of chocolate dust floated to the end of my tongue. I got the milk out and poured the last of it into the bowl. It didn’t look like enough so I added a little water. Then I got the whisk my mom used on potatoes and went to work. I’m sure it would have been a five minute job if we had used a mixer, but two little girls and a whisk took a minute. But finally we had a bowl of what closely resembled chocolate dream whip.
I gave my sister the two biggest spoons in the drawer and I wrapped my arms around the yellow bowl, held it as tight as I could and walked to the table. We sat there for a while. Both of us eating out of the bowl. Scraping down the sides for the parts that had turned kind of crunchy. Clicking our spoons together to hear the sound.
Outside, it continued to drizzle. Inside, I was still so happy to not be in school
When we were done, we went back in the living room but there was nothing on TV but soap operas. We hated soap operas. My families record player set in the corner with the top open.
“Let’s listen to records!”
I grabbed the one on top and put it on the record player. When I turned on the power it started to wobble. We needed the little yellow thing to go in the middle. We popped it in and started up the record player again. It was that song I have spent this whole day looking for. That crazy song about a horse going faster and faster. We danced around the living room holding up our nightgowns and laughing. And then I asked my little sister if she wanted it to go faster.
“Yes!” she giggled back.
I went back to the record player and pushed the lever to speed it up. That was the funniest thing we had ever heard. The voice sounded crazy. We danced even faster. We started holding hands and spinning. We needed it to be louder. I turned it up and up until it was as loud as it would go. And we danced in a circle with our hair flying out behind of us. Long strands unbrushed and wild. One blonde and one with flashes of red. Both of us yelling with joy and a massive sugar hit. Both of us happy. We were like that when our mother suddenly appeared in the living room door.
“What on earth is going on in this house? Why aren’t you girls at school?”
I picked that moment to fall down and pull my little sister down with me. We landed with her on top of me and I looked up at her face smeared with chocolate and smelled the sweetness and let out another trumpet yell of happiness. It was one of the very best moments of my young life.
And yes, I want to go back there. To that moment. To those little girls.
I want to wrap my arms around my little sister and tell her I love her and that I will always, always protect her. That I will hold her hand when Santa Claus scares her. That I will never be mean to her when I am in High School and think I’m really cool. That I will insist she goes on every vacation I ever take. I will tell her I do not want to see sunsets in Florida without her. I will whisper in her ear that when we are almost old women I will take her cancer diagnosis from her and make it mine. Every appointment, every chemical, every poke. I will stand between her and what’s coming and I will let nothing through.
But, I can’t. I can’t do any of it.
I can only remember and search feverishly for a song that will serve as a bridge back to that moment. Wish that my husband could drive me to that time. Search the internet for images of dream whip and wonder if my sister would like it if I sent a box. Wonder if they even still make it. Cast about for a way to create another day like that for us. Warm, joyful, chocolate safety. Free of cancer and worry.
yellowlamplight 